Withered Leaves
by Gerontius.T
Summary: When all your kin are fleeing Arda for fairer shores or grieving to death, touched by unlight, will you flee to your boats, cowardly and meek, or will you do your pathetically inept best to heal the ones who need you more?
1. The Rather Shallow World of Maidens

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Withered Leaves 

Disclaimer-I own nothing you recognize, everything belongs to Tolkien and estate.

Chapter 1-Restless

The leaves whispered in Imladris that day.

Totally unremarkable in every way was that day, so far as remarkable days go, as nothing of importance happened that day.

But, of course, opinions do differ, and for the girl who is one of the subjects of our narrative, this day was to be marked as one of the most important days of her life.

The wind wasn't howling ominously, nor was the rain pouring down in torrents as it often did when it felt tiresome enough to do so.

But there was a strange atmosphere of welling anticipation in the air, as though something indefinable was lurking evasively, quite at home with the shadows, like an elusive scent.

But not everyone noticed it, very few actually stopped to consider it, as they had far more important things to do, but the girl, who was relatively young and guileless, spent many pleasant hours thinking of it.

She was seen to be a lady of some mere three hundred years, perhaps a little small for her age, with large brown eyes, and sharp ears that heard far more than they should.

She was a healer by trade, although it could more accurately be called a hobby, as she had no compulsion to work at all. But being the daughter of a wealthy lord in Elrond's court she had a relatively easy life, if a trifle insipid.

The girl in question was shredding tough bunches of a particular sort of leaf found only next to Rivendell's waterfall, useful for chest aches and other bodily aches.

She had two siblings, and in spite of this, she managed to make herself thoroughly lonely. Her brother was an ambitious young warrior training to become a part of Rivendell's prestigious border patrol, and her sister had married a quiet young man of Cirdan's people and had since gone to live with his family some twenty years ago.

Her brother had married some time before, and had leg shackled himself to a thoroughly agreeable, self-possessed lady a little younger than him.

Ara, for that was the sister-in-law's name, was later found to be shockingly forward and overbearing, though at times proved to be very entertaining company.

In spite of all this, Mavwyn always made vague attempts to avoid Ara whenever she could, retaining a rather childish dislike of the older woman that was all too common in stable families.

Ara did not share the same interests that Mavwyn did, she had more interest in the shocking fashions displayed at the glamorous event that was Rivendell's court.

Mavwyn, to Ara's disappointment, displayed only a passing interest in the vicious world of high society, despite having excellent taste in clothing, and preferred to spend many joyous hours of childish glee procuring balms for many rare diseases that Ara saw no point in.

Ara however, left Mavwyn severely alone when she fell into times of depression, hearing that it was common among healers, even Lord Elrond was known for his fits of moodiness sometimes!

Now, it was a long standing legend, although perhaps rubbish, that if the leaves of the willows of Imladris' wild gardens whispered, that day would be special indeed.

Now, Mavwyn normally paid no heed to rumours that were probably untrue, but this tale appealed to her naïve heart, and after an afternoon of tiresome leaf grinding, she decided to visit the willows.

There was an ambling, rarely used path to the wooded area, the ground was littered with moss and dead leaves and the air was old and stifling, the silence broken by the shattering cries of a bat or two, swooping ominously over her head, unseeing milky white eyes piercing her like a sword, beautiful wings, cutting through the stagnant air, brought cool breeze to her face and cooled it slightly.

At last she left the path and veered slightly to the right.

There, in all their glory, stood the famed willows of Imladris.

They were tall, and graceful arched up high, as though seeking light in darkness, their kind motherly boughs stretched in kind temptation toward her enticingly.

With a few quick moments she was able to swing herself onto one of its boughs.

There were dozens of the majestic trees, dotted sparsely across the landscape of Imladris.

But this was one of the largest groups of trees that were ever there, and often she had shivered, thinking of the tles of Orodrim, the Ents, what if they woke up to their anger and crushed her like the mere twig she was?

Irrational thoughts, yes, but they were fuelled by her longing for the old tales to come true, like pages from a book, tales that seemed so impossible.

The willows were very kind to her that day, they looked upon her benevolently, like she was not an imposition, but rather a guest, humble and small in front of her betters.

Presently, almost dozing off from the peaceful area, she heard rustles.

_Who is there?_ She asked frantically, for she guarded this place jealously, it was almost her own, the others had been driven away by the unpleasant darkness and it did not occur to her that the thought was selfish.

The leaves rustled louder, in anger it seemed, for soon there were showers of leaves falling on her head and she was frightened.

_Who are you?_ She asked desperately, choking on a sob.

The fearful rustling stopped and now the trees seemed apologetic, and they seemed to caress her gently, rocking her gently.

_Pray, do not cry._ Someone told her, female, yet—old, and so wise…

Motherly, though the voice was, Mavwyn was still a little wary.

_The willows, young daughter._ The voice chided her gently.

_You have woken them while they were sleeping._ Mavwyn was shocked.

Perhaps, to appease the kind voice's barely hidden irritation, she stroked the trunk of the trees.

Quickly and noiselessly she slid down its trunk and dazedly walked away.

_Farewell, young daughter._ The old willow woman said sleepily, yet there seemed to be an undercurrent of kind, contemptuous laughter in her tone.

And as she went, she was quiet sure that the trees were moving away from her path.

_Certainly today will be something different._ She thought hopefully.

And certainly it was.

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Did _anyone _like it:)

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Read and Review _please._ I know I should be updating Redemption Earned, but this just popped into my head for no reason at all and I couldn't get it out of my head.:) Sorry.

I'm pretty sure I'll be updating RE in maybe two or threee days.:) Sorry.


	2. Domesticity

Disclaimer-Nothing belongs to me, everything belongs to Tolkien and estate.

Withered Leaves Chapter 2- Domesticity.

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Breakfast was being served in the dining hall of Imladris. It certainly wasn't the most breathtaking sights in Imladris, but it was light and airy, with a cheerful atmosphere and none of the impatient discontent that was a friend of the younger elves in Imadris.

Mavwyn herself had felt no inclination on her own part to join the patrols at the border, nor the urge to join the occasional band of foolhardy soldiers who thought themselves worthy of journeying with the Dunedain, the weather-beaten and hardy men who, it was rumoured, protected the borders of Bree.

Although having received some formal education, as much as had been deemed enough for young ladies of her station to study, and a considerable amount more on herbs and healing in general, an art which she had been quite adept at right from the start, she had felt little or no inclination to study maps of places beyond her sheltered life of Imladris, and thus regarded outer lands, as sadly many of her age did, barbaric and uncivilized.

To be quite fair to them, it was not expected of the younger elves to show any interest in the affairs of Middle Earth at all, except the odd hot blooded lark who had heard too many stories of gory war, shrouded in false visions of glory and renown to be entirely unmoved. Most of these young fools had come back, heads down and tails between their legs.

They had been taught, instead, to look forward, beyond the limits of this Arda Sahta, to see the untainted land that lay beyond mortal realms. They were taught to never form attachments; this would, of course lead only to unnecessary grief and strife when the time came to part. This was not, of course described in so many words, but that was the general consensus among all the families.

Therefore, the light of Imladris was preserved only by the lords who had stayed with Elrond since the beginning. They were wiser than she ever could be, and greater besides. The twin stars of Imladris were the only ones from anything remotely close to her generation who could truthfully boast of having fought orcs and lived.

Gildor, Mavwyn's own father regularly frequented the border patrols and was welcomed to their ranks with a bluff and hearty slap on the shoulder, a manly gesture, which left Mavwyn with no doubt about the insensitive nature of men.

In her fanciful mind, still a display of weak ambitions and unsteady, swerving ideals and harsh morals, true men were they who could recite a stanza from the Lay of Leithian withough stammering once, or they could wear their neck cloths without the least hint of discomfort.

It hadn't yet occurred to her that the unsung heroes who, with their lives protected her unworthy person would, by their bravery and loyalty, concepts that she thought she knew much of, yet in reality nothing at all, be more worthy of the title of 'man' than any dandy ever could aspire to earn it.

Having nothing but a vague impression that something important had happened the previous day, and that too, the word of trees, Mavwyn, like all people were wont to, toyed with the incident as a product of her imagination, and later, unwilling to admit that she was having hallucinations, dismissed the whole thing to be a dream.

Now, she was in a rather small group of girls who were equally frivolous and gay as her. This satisfied her immensely, for no more did she have any lack of company, as her sister had married and had settled in the Grey Havens, her brother one of the few younger border patrollers.

They were discussing a strange dream that Varne, a young, shy girl had had the night before. Mavwyn's subconscious pealed bells and the warning chimes in her mind rang as never before but she heeded them not.

"Tall you say she was?" Ninde, the acknowledged leader of the group asked trying to mild her curiosity.

"Tall, yes, very. But her eyes were grey as the dusk, like the clouds on Isil, but darker, and kinder. But they were so sad, they made me weep. Wisdom, they had, and grace, and strength too. I could not comprehend them. And her hair…oh but 'twas wondrous, Ninde! Would that you could have seen it!

"Like the deepest reached of twilight, and the grace of the stars twinkled as she moved. Not like the evil fog, but dark as the underside of a raven's wing. Her skin was so white, it seemed as though she was of the moon herself, though it seemed sickly and pale that day, as though jealous of the Queen." She broke off with dreamy eyes and saw our incredulous stares.

"Forget I said anything." Varne blushed hotly.

Mavwyn had the faint idea that Varne held them in a lazy, mute contempt that was sharp in its very dullness.

At least, as sharp as any girl like Varne could feel.

Varne was a frivolous sort of girl, the very epitome of a faerie, vain and fripperish, content to wallow in the perfection of her own beauty, never searching for anything new or interesting.

So perhaps, it was not so startling when not many of them believed her tall tale.

But Mavwyn idly began to picture the vision herself. Varne's words seemed to come not from herself, but from someone else, whose words had been as powerful as their deeds. Certainly, Mawyn thought, she could not have known the meanings of half the words she had just uttered.

The rest of breakfast went on as dully as it was possible to be, what with Mavwyn acting distracted, playing with her porridge and wondering if all of them were going mad and having hallucinations and wondering what juice would clear it up, Ninde wondering if her beaus would go to this mythical creature, goddess as she seed, and Varne wondering much the same.

A little towards the end of their meal, Celebrun piped up. She was a slight, delicate looking girl with a crown of silver mist, as her name suggested. She was betrothed to one of the guards of the annex, whom Mavwyn had not yet met. But her ears were sharper than even Mavwyn's, and it was the truth when one said that Celebrun could hear a rabbit scratching his ear a mile away.

"We shall see this Queen at the levee tonight." She said and without a trace of unbcertainty, walked across the hall to her betrothed.

" What a beastly girl ." Silimriel, a tall girl, young and hopeful said shuddering.

"As though Luthien herself is coming here! Bah!" she exclaimer bitterly, shoving down the contents of her plate as though they were now worms, and stalked bad tempered out of the hall.

It seemed that the hypothetical presence of the Luthien look-alike was already casting waves into the otherwise stagnant pool that was Imladris. While on healer duty, a rather dull and boring set of hours that she usually spent musing deeply on the nature of the latest type of lace that was in the crack. But today it seemed that Elladan had bruised himself while sparring his equally unstable brother and they had come to have it seen to.

"Next time you will not be so irresponsible." She told them coldly, crossing her arms after doing an admirable job of bandaging Elladan's arm while his twin hopped vaguely here and there, looking confused and concerned.

Elladan however laughed in her face. "You will not tell me what to do and what not to." He said flatly, looking cold and regal and staring down his elegant nose at her.

Mavwyn raised an eyebrow at him. " Tis called advice, lord, and you would be wise to heed it. You waste precious supplies on small, painful bruises while people die everyday. Take it and be responsible."

Elladan,b to his credit,b took the insult admirably and swept out of the room emanating lordliness while Elrohir spoke to him urgently about "silly and irresponsible maidens" and 'green chits from the schoolroom".

Ticking off an elf lord gave her a rather reckless sense of importance and she disobeyed every rule of the healing rooms, including the one that said not to leave the curtains open at noon.

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It should be fairly obvious by now who the 'Queen' is. And yes, Celebrun overheard someone else's conversation and told Ninde's group. 


End file.
